The Ogledd

Yr Hen Ogledd means: "The Old North". It is from such a place that I write you of these things. © Julian Michels, 2012

[intheoldnorth]

Winter is Coming

Our civilization is dying. I don't think it can be saved. I believe that new societies will be born from what remains. Their world will be poorer in resources but richer in experience, because we who have come already have learned so much. I feel that human potential is possible, and has barely been tapped. I feel that our work now in these last days of our people's Great Experiment is to consolidate meaning for those who come next. Never before has a civilization arose with as much knowledge and infrastructure as the next is likely to have at its birth. It is difficult to know that my family may not long pass on its name or its ways. But we now, for perhaps the first time in history, have the opportunity to collectively bond with a much larger family. It is the human family, one clan within Earth's tribe, and it needs us to be grown-ups now.

[intheoldnorth]

Men, Women, and Terror

Margaret Atwood penned the following: * "Why do men feel threatened by women?” I asked a male friend of mine. (I love that wonderful rhetorical device, “a male friend of mine.” It’s often used by female journalists when they want to say something particularly bitchy but don’t want to be held responsible for it themselves. It also lets people know that you do have male friends, that you aren’t one of those fire-breathing mythical monsters, The Radical Feminists, who walk around with little pairs of scissors and kick men in the shins if they open doors for you. “A male friend of mine” also gives—let us admit it—a certain weight to the opinions expressed.) So this male friend of mine, who does by the way exist, conveniently entered into the following dialogue. “I mean,” I said, “men are bigger, most of the time, they can run faster, strangle better, and they have on the average a lot more money and power.” “They’re afraid women will laugh at them,” he said. “Undercut their world view.” Then I asked some women students in a quickie poetry seminar I was giving, “Why do women feel threatened by men?” “They’re afraid of being killed,” they said." *

Margaret Atwood, Second Words: Selected Critical Prose (1983), pg. 413. (via bydbach)

You’ve probably heard the punchline before, but here’s the full context for the quote. (via muffinw)

* * * Atwood is brilliant, but I imagine her "male friend" is not entirely in touch with his own vulnerability, and so his answer leaves some very important parts of our fear out. * In fact, the fear that sparks in men's eyes in our culture is also a fear for survival. Part of it is this: men are afraid of being killed by women, because we need love to survive. Men and women both need love to survive, and in this culture, both men and women are generally traumatized by the ongoing fear that this need won't be met and they will die from lack or that in the pursuit of this need they will be attacked and destroyed. We learn about these fears early, from our parents and from cultural messages, and they become part of our basic templates for attachment. * It is probably also true that women have to deal with the additional fear of being attacked and killed by Stranger men, and men don't have to worry much about Stranger women. However, men also have to deal with the fear of being attacked and killed by Stranger men. The responses to this tend to be different between genders - women are more likely to express their fear, while men are more likely to express this as anger, frozenness, or tough guy armoring. The fact that so many men strut around without attunement or softness is not an indication that they're less afraid than women, or that they're not afraid for their very survival. It's an indication of how they've learned to cling to self-protection when they are in fact very afraid. * We are stuck in a traumatic system together, and it hurts. It hurts all of us. Women have been hurt terribly by men. Men have also been hurt terribly by men. We have all been hurt by this disease of patriarchy and gender war - a disease that in the contemporary milieu we must share the task of healing. Dismissing each others' trauma, pain, fear, suffering is no place to begin. My deep empathy for the pain you've been through, my tears for you, for me, what I've done and for what you've done and for what our ancestors did - this is where I'll start.

[intheoldnorth]

Neglect and Cell Phones

On the subject of neglect and mobile devices, Lyra just posted this: "As I was riding home from work recently, I saw a young girl, maybe 12-13, taking her puppy out for a walk. She was totally ensconced in her phone, and the puppy was sniffing around, seemingly paying no attention to her. I wonder about our electronic media connection and how it has affected the raising of animals. Are we raising generations of animals who are also disconnected and potentially traumatized from a kind of neglect?" * Yes. Our kids and our pets. It's very damaging. It's attachment trauma, and it destroys kids' ability to have attention span, self-control, or secure attachment. There are many studies on the subject. Among millenials, most of whom grew up with mobile devices, the average maximum attention span for learning is 15 minutes, and the average maximum for interpersonal interactions (think eye gazing, dancing, connected conversation) is three minutes. Empathy is also crippled among the mobile generations - they never learned how to see and feel others' emotions because they didn't spend time looking at others' faces or tuning into their own bodies. Neglect creates real trauma, and is in fact no less damaging than severe abuse. Truly, research shows that being "left in the cold" does just as much damage as being "severely burned" - they're both lethal. There was a study recently looking at how some nursing mothers use breastfeeding as a chance to check their mobile devices. The thing is, the eye-gazing and attuned togetherness that occurs when babies are breastfeeding is a lifeline - it is literally how babies learn to breathe, beat their hearts, bond in love, and react to life. Then, when those babies have partners later in life, most will have a ton of conflict because of their confusion about connection. When they have children of their own, most will traumatize their babies as they were traumatized, by not connecting, because they will know no other way and connection is strange and terrifying and they haven't learned any skills of tuning into themselves and being mindful, which are key ingredients for changing any of these patterns. What we do at Medicine House is in part an interruption of this process for those of us together here.

[intheoldnorth]

Mindfulness

Here's my Hakomi-informed perspective on mindfulness practices and their potential misuses: In Hakomi, we see mindfulness as a tool. Sometimes it is indicated, sometimes it is not. For example, we say highly traumatized clients should not be encouraged into deep mindfulness, since the act of getting into their bodies is likely to hyperactivate them into dissociation or beyond a threshold of useful work (in other words, they freak out or freeze, so a lot of prepwork is needed before mindfulness can start to be used with this kind of trauma). We also distinguish mindfulness and acceptance as separate states. We see mindfulness as a state of witnessing from stillness - a way to gather truth without judgment, like the 'camera of the soul'. We see that as different from acceptance, which would be more like then choosing to live without judgment. Actually, the forced-acceptance kind of mindfulness can become a kind of dissociation to someone who doesn't know the difference, and people can end up creating dissociated states instead when they're being trained in "mindfulness" - a kind of spiritual bypass. Which is sad. Currently, mindfulness techniques are being used by the military to create a level of stillness that can help soldiers improve their aim. So, I guess I see it simply as a tool with some amazing applications that can be used in a great variety of ways, and can also be misunderstood and misused either intentionally or accidentally. In my opinion, mindfulness also doesn't belong to Buddhism. Maybe the term does, but not the practice. Meditation and mindfulness practices have gone by so many names and appeared in so many traditions that they are more or less a ubiquitous part of human spirituality.

[intheoldnorth]

Lie

You were a sink or swim I took you in You swore to me you wouldn't cause me harm You lied to me while lying in my arms I don't know what to do I won't give up on you Your face is the face of the fallen souls who've walked into the fog before If I send you away like I couldn't help you, like I couldn't help them, how many more? My papa said son, don't you rescue fair maidens, there are better ways for you to spend time But I'm telling you, dad, the world's heart's breaking so who's gonna keep her alive? I don't know what to do I won't give up on you So pack your bags if I can't change your mind Or if you plan to use me hard then you'll have to get in line I don't know what to do I won't give up on you Will you help me heal the breaking heart of our tribe? Will you join your hands to my breath so we may survive? Will you learn what family means yet? Learn not to lie? Learn not to lie

[intheoldnorth]

Watching Mr. Rogers

I'm there and I'm watching Mr. Rogers It's on behind me. I'm on my knees on the couch and my daddy is making eggs - two eggs sunny-side up He's just in the kitchen, I can see him from where I kneel His back is mostly to me I'm not wearing a shirt. I'm wearing socks, as I lean against the back of the couch, peering over it I can feel the couch under my knees and it's scratchy against my 4-year-old chest but I like it I can smell the smell of butter that we're about to put on the toast and the smell of the eggs frying in the frying pan Pretty soon we're out and we're walking across the yard he's ahead of me and to the right I'm barefoot and I can feel the wet grass and mud underneath my feet and between my toes he's wearing heavy boots ahead of me heavy boots, walking quickly through the yard it's cool and it's wet still barely light so that the dim diffuse illumination lights up mist and fog we live in a valley and all around us are forest-covered mountains I can see their silhouettes through the fog and the silhouettes of the trees that cover them green and grey through the mist, dark shadows cupping us in their stony fingers the chickens are squawking and clucking nearby and I love the feeling of the coolness on my face, and my feet, and my hands what's so special about this moment is that I feel alive. delightedly alive. And I love my father He doesn't look at me I love my father Precisely because he doesn't look at me as he walks a step and a half ahead of me and to the side he walks quickly and I have to hurry to keep up I love him because he's himself and he's alive that's why I love him and I'm excited to go and see the goats There's a moment then when I know that this isn't going to last a flicker of awareness - this isn't going to last and suddenly the aliveness I felt out in those stony fingers clutching us like the palm of a hand that aliveness begins to fade, because I know it won't last it will be stolen from me I won't know until much later that I should've made that moment last longer I need to stretch it out so that there is a greater distance between I need your help and I will never have the help I need I need a greater distance between these two things I need to linger longer at I need your help because love is what we were born to need at such a tender age I need your help because the thing I want help with, the thing to be alive, is a thing which we need, and which we lose too easily - we need to breathe we need to breathe the mist on the mountains we need to feel cold air on our faces I need your help I should have made that moment longer but I was four and before I know it we are in the barn and my daddy helps me up onto the bale of hay so that I can look over the metal gate into the goats' indoor enclosure and his big hand reaching out to grab mine so that he can boost me up so that I can pull my weight onto that bale of hay that is the last act of help that my child self remembers from now on: he will not help me he isn't helping me he will not help me and so the goats are the best company that I can lean on my forehead pressed against their bony skulls as they come, reach through the grates to eat their fodder my daddy milks them into their pails and there's one time, one time I remember he squirts their milk into my mouth one time bittersweet the milk is sweet and there's something bitter about that moment I want more I wish I could stretch it out I know even then: I wish I could stretch this out this nourishment you're feeding me from your own hands but it won't be enough and I can already feel that it won't be enough and you will not offer more ... Why won't you help me? Why won't you help me? You're the only one! You're the only one who's real for me! You're the only one who understands what realness is! No one else here does! But even you even you turn away that is the betrayal, daddy that I need you to be real with me and there we are, 10 minutes later, and I'm watching you head for the door you have work to do but are you just fleeing from mommy as she stirs? coming awake in her den, she stirs and I know that she's coming out, and so you run for the door and I watch you leave, leaving me to her leaving me to this place where no one's what they seem except for me and you're leaving me, daddy you're leaving me and you must understand my life stretches out then before me as I give up on the hope that you will help me anymore my life stretches out before me and I don't see many options I'm just a little, little kid and I see before me that this path, where I am not helped it seems only to end in my death, like I will die that I will die, the only real thing in this garden there are no nutrients for me, and I will die that's why mommy found me banging my head against that bathroom door frame 4 years old and banging my head saying, I hate this place, I hate this place, this place is full of hate because I could feel that I must die something weird happened then something weird happened when it was me and withering away I can feel it coming on now, there's this rush of dream this rush like when I have taken particularly strong psychedelics this rush into the world of the shaman that sets upon me now like a great wind whipping around my face and everything coming in and out of focus as it widens and grows in this moment, my skin because thick images of bear flash before my eyes my skin becomes thick and leathery my face becomes wide, my body huge and I feel huge, everything with me feels huge I hold my stuffy before me and he feels like a giant stuffy because he is with me, he is of me, I learned to shape-change at 4 years old to survive what was going to happen next to jump out of the system like a boy in a train careening towards a cliff grows wings, I grow fur and thick skin I grow huge I didn't understand, what was I to understand, I was 4 years old there was only me, this annhilation, and growing huge, thick So I did I gained weight I didn't know the consequences, had no awareness of obesity for the next 15 years I learned, I gained weight, From a lithe little boy to a fat big kid and beyond At first the hugeness had no fierceness in it I wasn't aggressive But by 7 I had learned that the world was more dangerous than I thought and with the monsters that came after me, I learned to adapt my hugeness to being more than a thick coat against the cold I learned it could be used to frighten, if necessary to strike I learned to beat back the mobs, beat back the wolves scare them away, frighten them with my teeth and heavy claws that I could throw them from me I learned violence I learned to be violence in defense of the realness, daddy, that you took away Oh, but I don't I don't blame you I love you you were the only one you were the only one who was real and I love you for that I love you for that and it's not just you I look at my life and all of the same themes run parallel right through it and I don't hate them any more than I hate you these people whom I love who are caught between their realness and their fear and daddy, I call you a coward I must call you a coward because you ran away I love you because you stayed enough to show me the real and I call you a coward because that 4 year old boy, saw his daddy run for the door afraid to stay in realness with me the only place that I could stay do you understand that yet, about me? I couldn't go with you I couldn't run like you did I never learned that art, it- it's a wrong art it is the wrong art for me the art of sacrifice the truth for a shape that others judge as fit to survive no, you knew the wrongess in it too perhaps you passed your knowing onto me and I couldn't run So I'm back in that moment, the so important moment when I walked there behind you in the grass and mud and I could just feel you begin to slip away the moment before I knew that help would not come there was a little boy who needed help and was right to need there was a little boy who said help me daddy help me daddy help me daddy help me daddy help me daddy help me daddy help me daddy help me daddy help me and you weren't there and I will not let that moment die with the death of that moment is the death of me because I cannot survive a thick-skinned warrior I cannot survive with my heart buried in a barnyard at 4 so help me daddy help me daddy help me daddy help me

[intheoldnorth]

Scavenger

Dig in fierce bright eyes golden snow wolf Throw your mane-tresses Dig in there is meat under the frozen crust - scavenger, dig in Long steppes - Run across the steppes on padded footfalls golden 'gainst a softly snowing, eyes are fierce shy she-wolf your steppes are yours your howling long stopped made way for silent snowfall oh, scavenger we felled an ox for your, our, hunger its blood runs hot oh scavenger, dig in

[intheoldnorth]

Fiercer

Just enough light invades the cavern's arches that heaps of skittering gold catch glints like cold candles Damp dirt floor, no matter how you count and stack your gold but as an ancient mystery you are elegant, elegantly sleek green thing and huge Gaunt, sly, scales green and long your eyes are lidded long and thick delicately lashed your muscles strong your claws are long you think you're small to hide in depths beneath the earth and underfed to count your gold But I see you, beneath the earth green dragon by just enough light refracted and recaught again long, sleek muscles beautiful, and lidded lashes watching me

[intheoldnorth]

Hakomi Character Types and Hyperactivity

I'm listening to some talks by Gabor Mate on childhood wounding and ADD, comparing that to developmental psychology and Hakomi Character studies, and thinking about where hyperactivity and "inattention" emerges within development, environment, and early wounding. Given the nature of ADD as a matter of physiological and basic cognitive regulation, this points strongly towards first stage attachment material... some way in which relationship was not complete or major/repeating trauma occurred around birth and/or in the first 6 months after birth. It seems to me like this has everything to do with regulation of basic physiology, and it seems like the symptoms are a kind of "tuning out" and limiting of receptivity to external input. I think about the Overwhelmed/Withdrawn Character in Hakomi theory, and their typical reaction of freezing or fleeing. Freezing or fleeing, it seems to me, is sort of a "last ditch" attempt to actually stay connected to the world. Freezing is a bid for "PLEASE STOP SO I CAN LIVE", and fleeing implies a belief that if I move away from this overwhelming stimulus then I am moving towards another location in which my existence is possible. In an extremely inhospitable environment, I can see the fearful freeze response (wide-eyed "STOP IT STOP IT") or alternate flee response (refusing to make eye contact, turning away) breaking down if it ultimately fails to control the situation and get basic needs met. I can see the breakdown of that response defaulting instead to a kind of physiological self-regulation - a complete disengagement from being regulated by a nonattuned environment. Of course, at 0 to 6 months of age, when this is taking place, any physiological self-regulation is going to be extremely basic and not very nuanced. Rather than the kind of sort-of successful and relatively even-keel self-regulation that we see in "alienated/self-reliant" character who create their adaptation 6 months to a year later in development, this early adaptation creates either a lethargic shut-down or totally nonattuned independent behavior and physiology whenever the stimulus threshold is exceeded. And as with O/W Character, people with this kind of first-stage wounding would have a much lower threshold for that overwhelm than people who had more complete experiences of safe attachment in the first 6 months of life. How to work with this? Since they have actually broken contact with the external world on a physiological level (unlike O/W people who are still trying to maintain that contact in a tentative but persistent way), the clinical strategy of creating safety and quiet and moving at the O/W pace is less likely to be effective on its own. This is because, unlike the O/W character, this person is no longer making a bid for a regulated and collaborative physiological experience. It seems to me like this character pattern requires therefore a more proactive clinical strategy of constantly advocating for the person to regulate with you, to join at a physiological level, to notice your breathing together, to slow down together or stay linked. O/W people usually WANT to slow down in this way, and I think that this hyperactive/shut down character type is craving the same mindfulness of attuned connection, but is less likely to be aware of the wanting of it. It seems the clinician will have to pursue that objective for them while helping them to become aware through mindfulness of the reality that they long for that experience. Part of the processing would probably also involve accessing and experiencing the deep terror of being overwhelmed and destroyed by an unattuned world and environment. Most deeply, this type would long for the experience of actually feeling deeply safe and settled while in comfortable and collaboratively attuned connection... That is the missing experience we would want to create an opportunity to actually experience and deeply feel together. Wild eyes that don't seem to care whether they are looking at others or not, that pass over or stare through others. Constant movement and seemingly involuntary twitching or vocalizations. Insensitivity to social or spatial cues - as likely to stand facing a corner as to accidentally invade others' personal space. High levels of imaginative inner world are likely to be present at this level of withdrawn. A great deal of personal transparency and honesty about unfiltered inner process is also likely for anyone who joins with them enough to help them slow down and remember to share about it.

[intheoldnorth]

The Man in the Clearing and the Scorpion

I came across a clearing in the woods. Its grass was tall and green. The clearing was wide so at its center the trees were some distance on all sides. It was a sunny day and the wind blew. Staccato lines of white clouds marched doubletime across an otherwise bright and blue sky. It was a clear day, the kind of day that sees right through you.

I was surprised to spot a man lying in the grass near the center of the clearing. He was rotund and rosy, wearing only a brief pair of cotton shorts. His shiny round belly glinted in the sun's light, and the shadows of the tall grass danced all over the skin of his legs, chest, and face.

None of this was what startled me. The startling part was the scorpion. It was small, but I've heard that small vermin are the most venomous of all, and the most to be feared. Its carapace was black, shiny, and hard. Its eyes were dull black beads peering forward in a predator's gaze. And while I watched, the little devil stung the fat man's hand where it reached outstretched above his head. Then, it pulled back, retracted its stinger, paused, and struck again! Over and over again, the scorpion struck the man's hand. It struck in the same place every time, and I could see that some blood dripped from the open wound and onto the grass.

The man lay on the grass with a half-smile. Every time the scorpion struck, I could see his closed eyes tighten a little, but the smile didn't fade.

"Old man," I hailed him, concerned and curious. "Why do you lay there letting that scorpion sting you?"

"I am the scorpion," the man replied, not opening his eyes.

"Yes, yes," I said. "Of course you are. But doesn't the venom hurt?"

"Sometimes," he said, "but the scorpion hurts worse than I do."

"Okay, I get it," I said to the stranger. "You're clearly a sage, and I can see you have mastered some of the mysteries of mind and body. You can heal yourself even as you are stung, that is wonderful. But, isn't this a waste of your time? Surely, there are better uses for your magic than to lie in the middle of this clearing and be stung over and over? Why don't you move twenty feet away, so the scorpion stops its stinging? The clearing is large."

"Very large!" the sage replied, gesturing to his belly's girth and laughing uproariously. He looked at me, then, though he kept one hand near the scorpion, which continued its repetitive pattern of venomous sting.

"Of course I have considered moving," he told me. "Being stung in this way is not my favorite way to pass a sunny day. But look how engaged the little lady is!"

Little lady? I looked at the scorpion. It peered back at me ferociously, and stung the man again.

"She is lonely," the old man said, wincing a little. "She doesn't know how to ask for a friend. She keeps stinging me, and I keep hoping she will crawl onto my hand."

"Gods," I said, wonderingly. "Are you enlightened?"

"Just very confident," he answered with a nod. "Now, if I become too distracted, this venom will start working its way towards my heart, so I'm going to meditate some more. You can sit with me if you'd like, but be careful of the scorpion."

With that, he lay back and closed his eyes, allowing the sun and the shadows to play once more over his face. I watched him for quite awhile longer. I wished that I knew his secrets. But if I did, if I knew what he knew, would I truly let a scorpion sting me? Over and over? Without fear?

[intheoldnorth]

Adventure is Here

There is a lot that is wrong in our world. There are a lot of wounds. I am wholly present with that, and not consumed by it. By being radiant and creating from wholeness, we have the opportunity to be a part of healing. It is possible to come into balance within and without. We can be adventurers of the soul during a dark time. There are forces of great fear at work, but they do not hold sway everywhere. Don't douse your own light - we need every lantern burning as brightly as possible to illuminate these dripping dark caves and find our way home. Need a light? Need a friend? I am ready. Let's go!

[technologywater]

UN Report Says Small-Scale Organic Farming Only Way to Feed the World

Image: eatdrinkbetter.com

Nick Meyer | AltHealthWORKS Even as the United States government continues to push for the use of more chemically-intensive and corporate-dominated farming methods such as GMOs and monoculture-based crops, the United Nations is once against sounding the alarm about the urgent need to return to (and develop) a more sustainable, natural and organic system. That was the key point of a new publication from the UN Commission on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) titled“Trade and Environment Review 2013: Wake Up Before It’s Too Late,” which included contributions from more than 60 experts around the world.

Read More

[intheoldnorth]

Sapho

I wrote this for Jonathan, my dear friend over at http://usscreative.tumblr.com/. Sapho stared out the window. She saw the leaves scuttling across the ground, the branches from trees dancing still half-laden with turning leaves. She thought of changing seasons, how things always change. Except Jonathan, he was always the same. He always fed her, cuddled her, talked to her softly. She trusted him. That’s why she woke him up in the middle of the night, sinking sharp kitten claws into his skin until he shouted and rose up cursing. He might never know it, but she knew the truth: that was their little private language of love. Everything changes. Everything but that.

[intheoldnorth]

Dragonrider

(A friend of a friend is an Origami artist. I ran into them at a cafe, and he made me an absolutely gorgeous paper sculpture of a dragon rider. I wrote this for him, finished it just in time, and gave it to them as they were leaving the cafe.) The storm was wet and fierce. Slick tarmac stretched out long across the landing strip, but Bronze was already mounted and they were green to go. The duties of a dragon rider didn't stop for wet.

He winced again at another sudden crash - closer this time, louder. It wasn't the wet that worried him, but this, the raw electric streams rending the sky.

"Come now, come now." Bronze's deep voice was a murmur, but Her sharp ears would hear it. "Come now," he whispered, while Her lithe bulk shifted under him.

Her neck snaked around, bringing Her gaze-to-gaze with Her rider. Even now, after years together, there was a part of him halfway between his belly and his groin that quaked when She looked directly at him. She wasn't scared, though, even as thunder cracked again.

Bronze gathered himself, and clucked his tongue to get them moving. They had bigger things to worry about. Storms were not their problem. Storms did not threaten them, for there was lightning in Her eyes. 

[lettersfromishtar-deactivated20]

For Tantra, everything is holy. Remember this: for Tantra, Everything is holy, nothing is unholy. For an irreligious person, everything is unholy and for so-called religious persons something is holy and something else is unholy. Tantra says everything is holy, that is why we cannot understand it. It is the deepest non-dual standpoint - if we can call it a standpoint. Because any standpoint is bound to be dual and Tantra is not against anything, it is not any standpoint. It is a felt unity, a lived unity. There are two paths, Yoga and Tantra. Tantra could not be as appealing because of our crippled minds. But for someone who is healthy inside, not in chaos, Tantra has a beauty. Only such a person can understand what Tantra is. Yoga has an easy appeal because of our disturbed minds. Remember, it is ultimately your mind that makes anything attractive or unattractive. You are the deciding factor.

- Osho, Tantra: The Way Of Acceptance

(via lettersfromishtar)

[zafojones]

Petrified wood fossil with opal formed in the growth rings.

[intheoldnorth]

Circles of Connection

I’ve been thinking about the circles of intimacy in my life. I’m thinking about what I ask for and offer at the various levels of intimacy and commitment that I experience.

It’s good for me to be clear about this, so I can be super clear about what I’m asking for and offering to the different people in my life, and so I can be clear about my priorities. For example, it would be inappropriate for me to cancel plans with Family in order to spend time with Inner Tribe, unless doing so was important for my Self and Spirit. This also helps me to navigate relationship transitions, by becoming clear about who in my life falls into different circles of closeness, and by being clear about how and why people may move between circles. Each circle includes all the circles beyond it - Family is, by definition, also Inner Tribe and Outer Tribe and People. I also notice that in no circle do enemies appear - love is present at every level from complete shared devotion to total strangers.

~

Self and Spirit

            * My top priority is to my own organic path and calling, to orienting towards who I am here to be. This innermost circle is between me and "God".

~

Family

            * We share the top priority of getting in touch with and acting from our own wholeness

            * We share a deep devotion to showing up consistently for our shared process

            * Any other family that either of us have are able to be compatible and noncompetitive in terms of our respective devotion.

            * Long-term creative partnership becomes possible in this circle - business partnerships, co-parenting, and other projects (artistic, spiritual, activist) requiring close long-term collaboration.

~

Inner Tribe

            * We share a commitment to nonviolence in our relationship: not judging, condemning, demonizing, or attacking each other. Respectful behavior and communication..

            * We share an orientation towards deep personal honesty and integrity

            * We share a desire to be present for our unfolding shared process over time

            * We share a desire for personal growth and an openness to change from within

            * Deep intimacy becomes possible in this circle, though probably not in a consistent or sustained way like it is for Family.

~

Outer Tribe

            * We coexist in community without seriously endangering each other or other members of our community

           * We help each other when we can and when help is needed. We look out for, take care of, and protect each other.

~  

The People

            *We share humanity - we are all humans, deserving of love and a chance to live.